The only responses were dark looks, shuffling feet, and a muttered comment, “I can’t. I’ve got a chicken stewing ”
This being no more than they had expected, the brothers stripped off their armor and their clothes and went to bed. Their night’s rest was unbroken, save for slapping at some sort of winged, carnivorous insect that apparently had a craving for human flesh, and one other incident.
Around midnight, Tanin was wakened by the dwarf, shaking his shoulder and loudly calling his name.
“Whasit?” mumbled Tanin sleepily, fumbling for his sword.
“Nay, lad, put your weapon away,” said Dougan, hurriedly. “I just need to know something, lad. You and me and your brothers, we’re comrades, aren’t we?”
Tanin recalled, as well as he could recall anything, that the dwarf had seemed particularly anxious about this and had repeated the question several times.
“Yeah, comrades,” Tanin muttered, rolling over.
“What’s mine is yours, yours is mine?” persisted the dwarf, leaning over to look the young man in the face.
“Yeah, yeah.” Tanin waved a hand, brushing away a feeding insect and the dwarf’s beard at the same time.
“Thank you, lad! Thank you,” said Dougan gratefully. “You won’t regret it.”
Tanin said later that the dwarf’s last words, “You won’t regret it,” lingered ominously in his dreams, but he was too tired to wake up and ponder the situation.
As it was, he had plenty of time for pondering the next morning when he woke to find a spear point at his throat and several tall warriors standing over him. A quick glance showed him his brothers in similar circumstances.
“Sturm!” Tanin called, not daring to move and keeping his hands in plain sight. “Palin, wake up!”
His brothers woke quickly at the sound of alarm in his voice, and stared at their captors in sleepy surprise.
“Tanin,” said Palin, keeping his voice even, “what’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out!” Tanin angrily thrust the spear point aside. “What is this nonsense?” he asked, starting to stand up. The spear point was at his throat again, joined, this time, by two more—one at his chest, the other jabbing him in the back.
“Tell them that no matter how grateful the women are, it won’t matter to us!” said Sturm, swallowing and trying in vain to inch backward. The spear followed him. “We’re going to be knights! We’ve taken vows of celibacy....”
“It’s... uh ... not the women, lad,” muttered a shamefaced Dougan, entering the hut and thrusting his head in between the warriors. “It’s... uh... a matter of honor... so to speak. The truth of it is, lads,” the dwarf continued with a heart-rending sigh, “I got into a wee bit of a game last night.”
“So?” grunted Tanin. “What has that got to do with us?”
“I’ll explain,” Dougan began, licking his lips, his eyes darting from one to the other of the brothers. “I threw the bones well the first hour or two. Won the chief’s feather headdress and two cows. I was going to quit then, I swear it, but the old boy was upset and so what could I do but let him try to win them back? My luck was going that good, I bet it all on one toss, plus threw in my axe and my own hat as well.”
Tanin looked at the dwarf’s bare head. “You lost.”
Dougan’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t miss the other so much, but I couldn’t do without my hat, now could I? So I bet all my money against the hat and—” He looked at Tanin wistfully.
“You lost that, too,” Tanin muttered.
“Snake eyes,” said the dwarf sadly.
“So now you’ve lost your money, your axe, and your hat.”
“Not quite,” Dougan hedged. “You see, I just couldn’t do without my hat... And I didn’t have anything left that the old boy wanted, my jacket not fitting him. And you did say we were comrades, share and share alike—”
“When did you say that?” Sturm demanded, glaring at Tanin.
“I don’t remember!” Tanin growled.
“So, I bet your armor,” said the dwarf.
“You what?” Tanin roared in fury.
“The chief had taken a liking to it when he saw it on you last evening,” continued Dougan rapidly. Even with five spears pointed directly at him, Tanin looked extremely formidable and extremely angry. “I bet your armor against my axe and hat, and I won.” The dwarf looked smug.
“Thank Paladine!” breathed Tanin, relaxing.
“Then,” said Dougan, looking uncomfortable, “since my luck was obviously turning, I decided to try for my money back. I bet the armor, my hat, and”—he pointed—“the magic staff against my money, the cows, and the axe.”
This time it was Palin who, oblivious of the spears, sat forward, his face deathly pale, his lips ashen. “You bet... my staff!” He could scarcely speak.
Reaching out a trembling hand, he grasped hold of the staff, which lay at his side even while he slept.
“Aye, lad,” said Dougan, regarding him with wide-eyed innocence.
“We’re comrades. Share and share—”
“This staff,” said Palin in a low, shaking voice, “belonged to my uncle, Raistlin Majere! It was a gift from him.”
“Indeed?” Dougan appeared impressed. “I wish I had known that, lad,” he said wistfully, “I would have wagered more—”
“What happened?” Palin demanded feverishly.
“I lost.” Dougan heaved a sigh. “I’ve seen a man roll snake eyes twice in a game only once before and that was when I—Well, never mind.”
“You lost my staff!” Palin seemed near fainting.
“And our armor?” Sturm shouted, veins swelling in his neck.
“Wait!” Dougan held up his hand hastily. The warriors with the spears, despite their weapons and their obvious advantage, were beginning to look a little nervous. “I knew how upset you lads would be, losing all your possessions like this, so I did the only thing I could. I wagered your swords.”
This time the shock was so great that neither Tanin nor Sturm could speak, they simply stared at Dougan in stunned silence.
“I put up the swords and my battle-axe against the magic staff and my hat. I truly wish”—Dougan glanced at the shaken Palin—“that I’d known the staff belonged to Raistlin of the Black Robes. Even here, they’ve heard of him, and I likely could have gotten the chief to throw in the armor. As it was, he wasn’t all that impressed with what he’d seen of the staff—”
“Get on with it!” Palin cried in a choked voice, clutching the staff close.
“I won!” Dougan spread his hands, then sighed again, only this was a sigh of ecstasy. “Ah, what a throw that was....”
“So... I have my staff?” Palin asked timidly, brightening.
“We have our swords?” Tanin and Sturm began to breathe.
“Finding that my luck had shifted,” the dwarf continued, plunging the brothers into gloom once more, “I decided to try for the armor again. Figuring what good were swords without armor, I bet the weapons and—” He gestured bleakly toward the warriors with the spears.
“You lost,” Tanin said glumly.
“But I still have my staff?” Palin asked nervously.
“Aye, lad. I tried to use it to win back the swords, my axe, and the armor, but the chief didn’t want it.” Dougan shook his head, then gazed at Palin intently, a sudden, cunning expression twisting his face. “But if you were to tell him it belonged to the great Raistlin Majere, perhaps I could—”